Whitewash (56 page)

Pensacola Beach, Florida

Eric was surprised to come down and find that Howard had closed Bobbye’s Oyster Bar to the public. Rope barriers blocked off the boardwalk’s entrance. The signs they used—Closed for Private Party—were posted. Howard had the grill fired up, filling the surrounding air with the aroma of garlic, barbecue, pineapple and hickory.

At first Eric thought it was all for the Minnesotans. When Eric asked, Howard laughed, waving the stainless-steel tongs at Eric. “Hell no, they rescheduled.”

“But you’ve got the place cordoned off for a private party?”

“What’s the use of having a place of your own if you can’t close up once in a while and make dinner for your friends? Russ mentioned we needed to come up with a plan. I figure we’ll think better with full stomachs.”

Eric simply nodded and got to work restocking the bar. He worried about Sabrina. He hadn’t expected this “fight to make it right” attitude. She was looking at this as one of her scientific puzzles, that if only she applied logic and the appropriate formula she’d discover a resolution. Their dad was the same way. Looking at life as if everything were a mathematical equation, a sum of parts that when pieced together would be whole and complete. Life wasn’t like that.

Eric emptied oysters from a burlap bag into a plastic bus tub. At the sink he ran cold water over the shells to rinse them before he put them on ice.

He knew it would be easier if Sabrina would accept the new identity, at least temporarily. It’d give him time to come up with something better. He could eventually figure out what to do with their dad, if she insisted. Though he wanted to tell her that in his current mindset their dad was already out of their lives. She obviously hadn’t accepted that yet. For scientists with an answer for everything, Sabrina and their dad were pretty good at denial.

Howard brought some shrimp over to be cleaned.

“You mind doing these when you’re finished?”

“No problem.” Eric drained the bus tub and filled it with ice before he realized Howard was still at his side as if he’d forgotten something.

“Those friends of mine from Miami,” he said, waiting for Eric to nod that he remembered. Of course Eric remembered. He’d been looking for their boat since last week.

“They’re supposed to be here about midnight,” Howard told him, glancing out at the bay. “You mind sticking around and meeting them with me?”

No matter how much he liked Howard, Eric felt like he had plunged his hands elbow deep into the ice. Was that what all this talk about friends was for? To prepare Eric for meeting his Miami friends? What a great time for Howard to trick him, take advantage while Eric was preoccupied with helping Sabrina.

“Sure,” Eric told him. He wished Sabrina had taken that new identity and gotten far away from here before Howard’s drug-trafficking buddies arrived.

Pensacola Beach, Florida

Eric was surprised to come down and find that Howard had closed Bobbye’s Oyster Bar to the public. Rope barriers blocked off the boardwalk’s entrance. The signs they used—Closed for Private Party—were posted. Howard had the grill fired up, filling the surrounding air with the aroma of garlic, barbecue, pineapple and hickory.

At first Eric thought it was all for the Minnesotans. When Eric asked, Howard laughed, waving the stainless-steel tongs at Eric. “Hell no, they rescheduled.”

“But you’ve got the place cordoned off for a private party?”

“What’s the use of having a place of your own if you can’t close up once in a while and make dinner for your friends? Russ mentioned we needed to come up with a plan. I figure we’ll think better with full stomachs.”

Eric simply nodded and got to work restocking the bar. He worried about Sabrina. He hadn’t expected this “fight to make it right” attitude. She was looking at this as one of her scientific puzzles, that if only she applied logic and the appropriate formula she’d discover a resolution. Their dad was the same way. Looking at life as if everything were a mathematical equation, a sum of parts that when pieced together would be whole and complete. Life wasn’t like that.

Eric emptied oysters from a burlap bag into a plastic bus tub. At the sink he ran cold water over the shells to rinse them before he put them on ice.

He knew it would be easier if Sabrina would accept the new identity, at least temporarily. It’d give him time to come up with something better. He could eventually figure out what to do with their dad, if she insisted. Though he wanted to tell her that in his current mindset their dad was already out of their lives. She obviously hadn’t accepted that yet. For scientists with an answer for everything, Sabrina and their dad were pretty good at denial.

Howard brought some shrimp over to be cleaned.

“You mind doing these when you’re finished?”

“No problem.” Eric drained the bus tub and filled it with ice before he realized Howard was still at his side as if he’d forgotten something.

“Those friends of mine from Miami,” he said, waiting for Eric to nod that he remembered. Of course Eric remembered. He’d been looking for their boat since last week.

“They’re supposed to be here about midnight,” Howard told him, glancing out at the bay. “You mind sticking around and meeting them with me?”

No matter how much he liked Howard, Eric felt like he had plunged his hands elbow deep into the ice. Was that what all this talk about friends was for? To prepare Eric for meeting his Miami friends? What a great time for Howard to trick him, take advantage while Eric was preoccupied with helping Sabrina.

“Sure,” Eric told him. He wished Sabrina had taken that new identity and gotten far away from here before Howard’s drug-trafficking buddies arrived.

A week ago Sabrina remembered whining about being alone. Now suddenly sitting at the beach-bistro table she had a group of strangers plotting her future. She wasn’t surprised that Eric had surrounded himself with what, at first appearances, seemed to be misfits. After all, he was the one always bringing home stray dogs and later in college bringing home kids who had nowhere to go for the holidays. “Mr. Charming,” as their mom affectionately called Eric, had no problem making friends, getting dates or even getting jobs. It was the keeping part that usually tripped him up.

Between bites of Howard’s smorgasbord of shucked oysters, grilled scallops, shrimp, scampi and vegetables, Eric and Sabrina fielded questions and relayed information. The group sat around their favorite table at the edge of the pier, tiki lamps and citronella candles the only light other than the moon. Any other time Sabrina would have enjoyed the sound of the water sloshing up against boats in their slips. The night birds were a bit different here on the gulf than the ones she and Miss Sadie listened to back in Tallahassee. She sighed and once again she hoped Miss Sadie was okay. She missed the old woman, her quiet calm and wise counsel. Sabrina couldn’t help wondering what magic the old woman had performed to make Sidel’s hired assassin just go away.

“You said a computer software program controlled the process,” Russ said, interrupting her thoughts.

“Yes, and Dr. Lansik was the only one with access to change it.” It was the second time Sabrina had explained this. Maybe the guy wasn’t as much of a computer expert as he pretended to be. He reminded her of male students who wanted her attention though they had no idea what they were talking about.

“The same program would have to be used to process anything that came into the plant then, right?”

Sabrina nodded. “Lansik designed the program alongside another scientist engineer who designed the plant before any of it was built.”

“So anything that came through Reactor #5 would have to be done with this computer program,” Russ said, pointing a plastic swizzle stick at her as if to emphasize his point, a point Sabrina thought was pointless because they already suspected this might be the reason Lansik had been killed. Russ wasn’t finished. “Then there’s a file, a record, embedded in the network.”

Sabrina stopped with a shrimp halfway to her mouth. Everyone else had stopped, too. Okay, so maybe this guy wasn’t just cute and flirting with her.

“Even if they’ve gone in and erased the files from their particular computer or hard drives,” Russ explained, still waving the swizzle stick like it was a wand, “it wouldn’t have erased the copy saved on the network’s server.”

“Wait,” Eric said. “Are you saying there may be some sort of record to prove that they’ve been processing hurricane debris out of Reactor #5?”

“Depends on how detailed the computer program is,” Russ said, looking at Sabrina for the answer. “What are you able to see when you access the program to view the various processes?”

“You can’t see exactly what’s inside the pipes. It tracks the flow, the temperatures, the coking times, what valves are opened or closed.” She tried to envision the computer screen and all the data that appeared.

“Would it differentiate between chicken guts and hurricane debris?” Eric looked hopeful.

“Everything would be different,” Sabrina said. “The entire formula is different.”

“That’s it, then.” Eric slapped a palm down on the table. “We already have satellite photos of what’s being brought in. We just need a copy of the processing file. And Russ here can hack right in and get one, right?”

Sabrina caught Russ’s eyes before they dropped. She already knew it couldn’t be done before he told them, “I’m afraid it’s not possible.”

Sabrina could tell Eric wasn’t happy with that answer. She could see him sitting on the edge of his chair and even in the dim light she saw his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. He’d been on edge since she’d refused his generous offer of a new identity.

“Not possible,” Eric said, “or you just don’t know how to do it?”

“Easy now.” Howard laid a hand on Eric’s shoulder.

“You know I’d do it if I could, dude,” Russ said, but Sabrina didn’t think he sounded defensive as much as hurt.

“But you don’t know how. I understand.” Eric’s tone was one she recognized, a sort of taunt laced with betrayal. He had their mother’s talent of using words as weapons.

“He can’t do it,” Sabrina interrupted, “because he’d have to use a computer at EchoEnergy.”

She waited for Eric’s eyes to leave Russ and find hers. When they finally did, some of the intensity had softened.

“So we find a way back into EchoEnergy,” Maxine volunteered, but Sabrina guessed from her smile that she was simply trying to lighten things up.

“That’s not a bad idea,” the Mayor joined in, only Sabrina didn’t think he was joking. She had counted him at his fifth pink lady.

“Security is pretty tight,” she said. “There’s only one entrance into the park with a guard hut and gate. Each area can only be accessed by security key cards. I’m sure they voided mine or at the very least attached a security alert to the number,” she added, shaking her head.

“What about the grounds?” Eric asked. Sabrina could see him getting hopeful again.

“There’s a security fence in the front,” she explained. “The forest lines two sides and the river lines the other side.” She didn’t like where this conversation was headed.

“Is that the Apalachicola River?” Howard asked.

“Yes,” Sabrina answered despite the knot beginning to form in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t like this one bit and yet, what did she expect when she insisted something had to be done to stop Sidel?

“Is there any security along the river?” Eric asked the next obvious question.

“It doesn’t matter if we can get back into the park.” Sabrina tried to keep the anxiety out of her voice. “Key card access is required to get into every area, including the administrative building. Even the café and fitness center.”

That stopped them. Sabrina looked from one to the next, hoping to see that she had canned the idea of going back to EchoEnergy. There had to be another way.

“This park,” the Mayor said, his wrinkled face scrunched up in thought, “it probably has a bunch of vending machines, right?”

Everyone turned to look at him in a way Sabrina thought you looked at someone you respect, but also expect to not make sense, polite but almost dismissive. They were probably thinking the same thing she was—how many pink ladies had he drunk?

“I suppose so,” she answered only out of courtesy.

“In pretty much every building?” he asked.

Sabrina glanced at Eric. Was this guy serious? She knew Eric’s friends wanted to help, but to what extent was she expected to humor them? Especially an old drunk who only wanted in on the conversation. And yet all of them looked like they were waiting for her answer.

“There’s a bank of vending machines in the fitness center,” she said, trying to remember. “I suppose there are others around the park. I just don’t remember exactly where. I’m a coffee drinker.”

“Coke or Pepsi?” The Mayor wouldn’t let it go.

She wanted to tell Eric this was ridiculous. “Pepsi,” she said with an impatient sigh, hopefully indicating this was the last answer she’d humor him with.

“Excellent,” he said, rubbing his crooked arthritic hands together and sitting back, pleased. “I can get you inside,” he told Eric. “Piece of cake.”